Julia Quintanilla, 55, who has cleaned two federal buildings for 27 years, is shown before her shift begins on Jan. 28, 2019, in Washington. Quintanilla says she cashed in the last of her sick days during the shutdown to keep some income flowing. (Sarah L. Voisin/Washington Post)

Her debt was mounting: $156 for the gas bill, $300 for electricity, $2,000 for the mortgage. She could no longer afford her blood pressure pills. But what stung Audrey Murray-Wright most was rationing the groceries.

Murray-Wright, a cleaning supervisor at the National Portrait Gallery, is one of more than a million federal contract workers nationwide whose income halted when the government partly shuttered for 35 days.

Unlike the 800,000 career public servants who are slated to receive full back pay over the next week or so, the contractors who clean, guard, cook and shoulder other jobs at federal workplaces aren't legally guaranteed a single penny.

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They're also among the lowest-paid laborers in the government economy, generally earning $450 to $650 weekly, union leaders say.

And even as they began returning to work Monday, they were bracing for more pain. President Donald Trump's new deadline for Congress to earmark funding for his proposed border wall is Feb. 15. Agencies could close again if no deal is reached.

Murray-Wright, who lives in Maryland and has worked at Smithsonian properties for 15 years, said seeing her name back on the schedule has brought little relief.

She clocks in again Tuesday but doesn't expect a paycheck for at least another week. After her husband died last year of a heart attack, she has struggled to support her sons, ages 12 and 15.

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"I did have a little money in the bank. Now that's all gone," she said, crying. "I don't have any help. My electricity might be turned off any day now."

Hector Figueroa, president of 32BJ SEIU, a labor union that represents 170,000 service workers on the East Coast, said reopening the government is a temporary fix for people on such shaky ground.

"Contracted workers are still in limbo," he said in an email. "The men and women who clean and secure federal buildings have been living on the edge of disaster for five weeks. Many of these workers are facing eviction, power shut-offs, hunger and even going without lifesaving medications. And unlike direct federal employees, they may never be made whole."

After the 16-day shutdown in 2013, approximately 850,000 federal workers collected compensation. About 1,200 cleaners, security guards and food-service workers in the Washington area, however, received no makeup pay.

A group of Democratic senators introduced a bill last month aimed at changing that. Mark Warner, D-Va.; Tim Kaine, D-Va.; and Sherrod Brown, D-Ohio, have proposed legislation that would repay contractors up to $965 per week with public money and restore sick days used during the shutdown. It's unclear whether the bill will advance.

The push for compensation comes at a time when only 4 in 10 Americans say they could cobble together $400 when faced with an emergency expense, according to the latest Federal Reserve data.

Julia Quintanilla, 55, who has worked for the past 27 years as a janitor at the Agriculture Department and other federal agencies, said she cashed in the last of her sick days during the shutdown to keep some income flowing.

Such was also the case for De'von Russell, 30, a security guard at the Smithsonian Museum of Natural History. He applied for unemployment checks in early January, which fell a couple hundred dollars short of his usual wages - about $600 weekly - and did not arrive until last week.

He's thrilled to return to work Wednesday, he said, but it's hard to celebrate with a month's worth of income gone. Russell, who has a 3-year-old daughter, estimates he's down $2,000.

"I was living paycheck to paycheck," he said. "When all the funds stopped coming in, it just was like: 'What do I do now?' "

Loniece Hamilton, 25, another Smithsonian guard, said she watched about $1,000 disappear from her bank account during the budget stalemate. She'd started her job in May, figuring a government-tied position would be more stable.

She borrowed money from her grandfather and cousin. She didn't drive unless she was taking her 5-year-old son to school. And when he asked for his favorite cookies and juice at the store, she said: Next month.